Ickle Ronniekins
by dontgiveahoot
Summary: Second in the 'Punchline' series, and sequel to "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes". What happens when Fred and George ask one question too many?


ICKLE RONNIEKINS.

This is actually the second fic in what I've privately called the 'Punchline' series - the first fic is "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes". It's Harry/Ron slash (as are most of the stories in this series,) but nothing is explicit. Just some sexual innuendo and making out. Rated PG-13. No problems.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Although, you know, he would make a great birthday present...

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It was as they'd feared.

Fred and George Weasley had Found Out about the incident during detention yesterday, and the reason why they'd had to miss out on the Hogsmeade visit today. And it was not funny.

Not that Fred and George agreed with them on this matter. It was bad enough Hermione scolding them for thinking with the wrong body parts without the twins loudly singing their congratulations - in VERY detailed terms - all through lunch until McGonagall made them stop.

And now, after the detention and a short shower to get rid of the smell and gunk that still covered them, they'd just settled into the Common Room when the portrait swung open and people began piling in, happily chattering. Ron spotted the twins among them, grinning at them like predators eyeing their next feast.

Belatedly, Ron wished he'd taken up Harry's suggestion of going to get hot chocolate, instead of wanting to take advantage of the unusual solitude of the Common Room to rest without being stared at - a first for that day. Then again, this made twice in two days that Harry had made a good suggestion and he hadn't followed it. Maybe it was time to stop pretending to think at all.

"Ah, and here are our young lovebirds!" crowed Fred - or George? No, wait, it was definitely George, he had that large freckle on his earlobe that Fred didn't have. 

"Yes, indeed, George, it would appear to be Hogwarts' most famous couple, currently hot gossip around the school-"

"What?" Harry interrupted. "The entire SCHOOL knows?" 

"Oi, you don't have to sound so ashamed of me, you know," Ron grumbled. He couldn't blame Harry much, though. The last time his romantic life had come up for speculation in the rumour mill, not only had he been cornered by a rather angry Bulgarian who wanted to know his exact intentions towards "Hermy-own-ninny", but Hermione herself had ended up on the wrong end of some very cruel letters and pranks. 

Harry blushed. "I'm not ashamed of YOU, Ron. Never," he said quietly. "It's just..." 

"Yeah, I know," Ron squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Not to worry - we'll make it through like we always have, eh?"

A relieved smile hovered on Harry's mouth as Ron grinned supportively at him. 

"Now, brother dear, have you ever seen anything so utterly sweet?" 

"Why no, dearest twin, can't say that I have, really."

Oh bugger. Forgot about the twins... "How did you two find out, anyway?"

George simply grinned. "We have our sources, Ron."

"SEAMUS, YOU BASTARD! You promised you'd keep your bloody huge mouth shut for once!!"

"Well, he kept quiet for most of the morning - he only spilled it at the beginning of lunch," Harry pointed out with a sigh. "I'm surprised he held out for that long, really. 

"Now then, Harry," Fred spoke sternly. "Since you seem to have some, shall we say, plans for ickle Ronniekins, it is only just and right that we perform our big brotherly duty and thoroughly interrogate you to the point of mental collapse."

"Besides," George pointed out, "it's our only chance to perform said big brotherly duties."

Harry frowned. "What about Ginny?"

The twins both shuddered. "Interfere in her love life? No, thanks. We're not suicidal. We'll leave that level of rampant stupidity to Ron."

"HEY!"

Ignoring Ron completely, the twins grabbed Harry's shoulders and calmly lifted him over to a corner. "Now then, Harry, do tell. We need information before we proceed with the congratulations and the obligatory honorary-Weasley Wedgie. So then, what was the kiss like? Was it worth getting caught?"

"Did he live up to the valiant name of Weasley, or did he let us down?"

"Does he do the right thing? Does he buy you flowers and chocolates?"

"Do you buy him flowers and chocolates?"

Harry was going redder every second. Ron was going to kill them. Slowly. And painfully. He'd heard of a Muggle thing called a spork that would do admirably...

"And what about this, hmm?" George plucked at Harry's jumper. "This appears to be something completely different to what you wore this morning... and do I not detect the scent of shampoo in the air? Ah, you naughty boy! What were you doing in the shower?" 

"More to the point, what were you doing to get messy enough to NEED a shower? Doing detention... or doing something else? Doing someone, perhaps? It seems that Ronniekins is also wearing different clothing to that of this morning; I do hope you're treating our little brother like a gentleman..."

Just when Ron was about to storm over and personally cast the Eat-Slugs hex with a non-broken wand; Harry looked up, directly into their faces, and said something quietly. Ron couldn't hear what he said, but he definitely heard the results - and saw them too. Fred and George went very pale, their freckles standing out a mile away, and they stepped back.

"W-what?"

"Wait, we were joking! You mean you were actually..?!

Harry blinked up at them. "You said you wanted to know," he pointed out calmly. "It was like this..."

"Argh! Too much information!"

And with that, the twins had bolted up the stairs at the speed of light, leaving a few very puzzled and amused Gryffindors behind. Harry seemed unconcerned as he stood up and came back over to Ron. "I don't know about you, but I really do want some hot chocolate now. Coming with me to the kitchen?"

Ron could only nod. As soon as they were out of the common room, he blurted, "Blimey, Harry, what did you _say_ to make them react like that?"

Harry blinked and smiled innocently. "Nothing specific or private - only the truth."

Ron waited. "Well?"

Green eyes sparkled as the smile delicately widened. "I know you hate being called 'ickle Ronniekins', so I just told them that there was _nothing_ little about you."

END. 


End file.
